


Another Breath

by BreakfastTea



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Gen, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Procedures, Protective Jack Dalton (MacGyver 2016), Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:29:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26567359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BreakfastTea/pseuds/BreakfastTea
Summary: Hospitalized after a hit and run, Jack keeps Mac calm when he wakes up with a tube down his throat.
Comments: 19
Kudos: 86





	Another Breath

**Author's Note:**

> HI THIS IS ONE OF MY WORST NIGHTMARES! ^^;;;;
> 
> So, smclelli sent the following over to me on Tumblr: Mac gets injured, gets intubated and then is awake whilst intubated. Obviously knowing Mac he doesn’t want to be in hospital, tries to pull it out - along with all his other IVs, catheters etc but just ends up with them all back in again and restrained awake until he’s well enough to have the ET tube out. Jack, I imagine, be there to provide that marvellous comfort and hair stroking!!!
> 
> What started as a minific grew into something a wee bit longer, so here we go :D

Something feels wrong.

Very wrong.

Pain, yes. Distant.

No, something worse.

It’s…

It’s inside him.

His thoughts are slow, syrupy. He can’t…

Slip and slide. In and out. Black and then blurs of blinding, agonizing light.

Can’t… can’t think. Can’t…

What is wrong with him?

…Can’t remember…

…Can’t…

Something… something in his mouth?

In his throat?

Noises filter into his mind. Something mechanical. He’s good with machines. This one hisses. It’s a regular sound. Like the machine’s alive. Breathing.

Breathing.

He needs to breathe. Needs to take a breath. But he can’t. His lungs aren’t working. He can’t pull in air, can’t –

The machine hisses.

And his lungs fill.

More. He needs more air.

It doesn’t come.

He’s choking.

Suffocating.

The darkness fades behind sudden, blinding light. Alarms scream nearby. There are other sounds, voices maybe, but all he can do is reach for what’s choking him, killing him. Pain tugs in his arms, like something’s digging inside his veins. He doesn’t care about any of that right now. The thing in his throat. It’s gotta come out.

His hands find something hard. Plastic. He doesn’t know what it is, but he grips it and tries to pull.

Something moves inside his chest. He gags. He can’t get it out.

“Hey, hey, hey, no you don’t. You’re safe. I gotcha.”

Gentle hands close around his, lifting them away. A blurry shape hangs over him. A person? He can’t tell, can’t get his eyes to focus. Why aren’t they helping? Why are they letting him choke?

“Shhhh,” the familiar voice says. “Stop fighting. You need all of this. You’re too hurt to go without.”

No, the voice isn’t right. He can’t stop fighting. He has to get out of here. He tears his hands out of the grip and he reaches for the things in his arms. Drugs. Must be. They have to go. He has to clear his mind. Needs to be able to think, to –

The hissing machine forces another breath into his lungs.

Get. It. _Out_!

The other hands grab his again. Harder this time.

No! Please, let go. He has to get it out of –

“I got him,” the voice says to someone else. “You gotta do something before he hurts himself.” That familiar voice sounds worried. Really worried. Panicked, actually.

“Don’t worry,” a calmer man says. “The sedatives will kick in momentarily. We can’t extubate him yet. He’s not strong enough. We’ll have to adjust his meds.”

“See, Mac?” the familiar voice says. “I told you so. You need this. Rest. I’ve got you.”

Jack. Jack’s here. Mac wants to tell him to help him, to let go, but the light’s fading. The darkness swarms in. He’s fading fast.

The last thing he hears is the hissing. His lungs fill again.

Then the feeling of someone’s hand brushing through his hair. Gentle. Caring.

“Shhh,” Jack says. “Let go.”

Mac fades.

* * *

Jack watches Mac’s eyes roll back as the sedatives drag him under. His body sinks into the bed, relaxing into a boneless slump. The machines stop their screaming when Mac stops fighting. Jack breathes out a huge sigh of relief and looks up at the nurse. “Thank you,” he says.

The nurse nods, smiles, then goes back to the tricky job of reattaching the lines Mac managed to knock free. He leaves the room, and when he returns, he has medical restraints with him. Jack wants to argue on Mac’s behalf, but he also knows if Mac isn’t kept down, he’ll likely come to fighting again, and he might do himself real harm.

“Call if you need anything,” the nurse says once he’s finished.

“I will,” Jack says.

The nurse leaves. Hours pass, the day bleeding into the night. Jack drifts into thought. Mac’s been in hospital for three days now, and today was the first sign of consciousness he’s shown in all that time. Of course he’d come to fighting. His body just couldn’t keep up. How could it, after the hell he’d gone through?

The night wears on. Nurses run constant checks. The doctors come by on their rounds. Mac stays down. They’re happy with his progress, but not enough to free him from the vent. That’s staying until tomorrow at the earliest. But they’re lessening the sedation, letting Mac surface slowly. Jack doesn’t leave Mac’s bedside except to use the bathroom, and he keeps those visits to a minimum. Every second he’s with Mac, he keeps up some kind of physical contact; running his hand through Mac’s hair, holding his hand, resting his hand against his leg. Anything to let him know he’s not alone. Jack keeps the others updated, telling them they’ll know as soon as he does when Mac’s breathing by himself. But Jack can’t leave, not even to sleep. He won’t let Mac come around alone. He won’t let him be terrified by the awful feeling of being immobilized, even if it is for his own safety.

“I’m here,” Jack tells Mac. “You’re not alone.”

All this from an asshole hit and run driver. Mac had been out for his usual run when some shithead mowed him down and left him to die. He’d nearly drowned in his own blood from a punctured lung before another person came across him and dialled 911. Riley’s on the hunt for the coward, and whoever they are, they better pray the police arrest them before Jack finds them. Because the damage their car had done to Mac was almost lethal. Jack doesn’t dare run over the list of injuries again. The magnitude of them terrifies him. He just had to focus on the most important fact of all.

Mac’s alive, and he’ll be fine in time.

It’s 0400 when Jack returns from a bathroom break and sees Mac stirring again, eyes rolling under their lids. Jack reaches for him, running his hand through the shaggy hair.

“Hey,” he says. “I’m here, Mac. You’re safe.”

Mac’s eyes struggle open. They stare at the ceiling, pupils blown wide. Is he even awake? Hard to tell. Jack’s hand briefly slips to Mac’s cheek, mindful of the vent. He hates seeing it, hates the idea that his friend isn’t ready to breathe solo yet. He’s also aware that he’s gotta keep Mac from panicking again. It’s not gonna do him any good.

“You’re almost ready to be free of that tube,” Jack tells him, hand sliding back up to Mac’s hair. He keeps the motion regular and gentle. Anything to ground Mac, soothe him, show him he’s not alone. “You just gotta hang in there a little bit longer.”

The nightshift nurse pokes her head in. She’s Jack’s age, her greying hair tugged into a ponytail. “Everything okay?” she asks, keeping her voice low.

“He’s coming round again,” Jack says.

The nurse nods and comes over, checking machines, IVs, catheters and the vent. Mac flinches at her touch. His hands come up like he’s going to push her away, but the restraints stop him.

“Hey now, it’s okay,” Jack says. “She’s here to help as much as I am. Actually, she’s way more help than I am. She knows what all these machines do, and trust me, you need ‘em all right now.”

“Just keep talking to him,” the nurse tells Jack. “You’re really helping.”

“Hear that, Mac? A medical professional says I’m helping.” Jack keeps his tone light, even though what he really wants to do is cry.

The nurse finishes her checks. “He’s still not ready to come off the vent, but he’s doing better than before. He’s taking more breaths on his own which is a good sign. He’s one determined young man.” She smiles at Jack. “The sound of your voice calmed him. I could see it on the monitors. Keep it up, okay?”

Jack does just that. Mac’s semi-conscious at best, eyes hazy, expression one of confusion. He’s not tracking the conversation. They might not be sedating him so much now, but he’s still getting hefty levels of painkillers to smother the agony of internal injuries and broken bones. Shattered ribs that had punctured a lung, his left leg that was now pinned together, his left arm wrapped in a cast… So yeah, Mac’s coming to, but he’s still spaced right the hell out. Still, Jack sees him trying to reach for an IV or the tube in his throat. If it wasn’t for the restraints, Jack really would be pinning him down. He sees the sleepy, doped up confusion in Mac’s features and wishes he could get through to him.

Instead, Jack talks about everything and nothing, his hand either running through Mac’s hair or over his forehead to smooth out the lines. And as Mac cycles up into higher levels of wakefulness, and his frustration and fear grow, Jack wipes away the tears.

“You just gotta hang in there with it,” he tells Mac when he finally, after a long night of drifting, makes eye-contact with Jack. “I know it sucks, but you need it.”

Mac tries shaking his head. Jack leans closer, one hand clasping Mac’s while the other kept brushing through his hair. He’s gotta keep Mac calm. Centered.

“I know you want it gone. I want it gone too. But you gotta trust the doctors, hoss. They know best. And they know you ain’t quite ready yet.”

Mac squeezes his eyes shut. He shifts his hand, squeezing Jack’s with everything he had in him. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. He’s more aware now than before.

“You’re not giving up, I know that. But you’re in pain and you’re exhausted. Just try and get some more sleep ‘til the nurse comes back. We’ll see what she says about this tube of yours.”

Jack watches Mac fighting hard to stay awake. It isn’t working. He’s going back under. It’s probably for the best. Jack feels Mac’s grip slackening, his hand going limp. He fades out again.

“There you go,” Jack says.

The nurse comes back in as dawn breaks, carrying a breakfast tray. She passes it to Jack, who thanks her. “Any chance we can get him off the vent now?”

“Doctor Ruane will make that call when she arrives at eight,” the nurse says. “But he’s had a good night.”

“Hear that, Mac?” Jack tells his sleeping friend. “You had a good night.”

She finishes her checks and heads out. Jack tucks into the breakfast, hungrier than he thought. It’s only 0500, but he’s impatient for the doctor to arrive. He updates the others while keeping a close eye on Mac, primed for the slightest sign he’s waking up again.

It’s 0755 when Mac comes to suddenly and as completely as someone on that many meds can. He’s back to fighting, the restraints struggling to hold him. Monitors start beeping and screaming again. Jack’s there, reaching for Mac, talking loud but calm.

“Look at me, Mac.”

Mac doesn’t. His eyes are roving, panicked. His heart-rate skyrockets as he chokes against the tube.

Calm isn’t helping.

“Angus!” Jack barks.

That gets him. His eyes lock onto Jack’s, panic shining in their blue depths.

Jack gives him his best, most reassuring smile. “You gotta quit fighting.” He hits the call button without looking up. “I know you’re scared, and I know you must be confused right outta your mind, but you’re in hospital, okay? You were hurt. Badly. Some asshole knocked you down when you were out for a run.”

He could see Mac’s brain working, like he was trying to remember anything he was being told.

“You’re gonna be fine so long as you calm down. I know the tube sucks, and I know you want it gone, but until the doctor says you’re ready, it’s staying.”

The door opens and the nurse returns. She’s not alone – Doctor Ruane is with her. Jack met her the day this whole nightmare started, and he’s got nothing but respect for her. She checks the monitors.

“Okay, Mr MacGyver –”

“Mac,” Jack corrects absentmindedly.

“Mac, of course,” Doctor Ruane says. “I’ve got good news for you. We’re going to get this tube out of the way. At this point, it’s causing you too much distress. You’ve had a good night and it seems your lungs are ready to give it a go themselves. Stay nice and calm for me.”

Mac’s hand scrabbles against the sheets. Jack reaches for it, holding it tight. “I gotcha, man.”

A few minutes later, the tube is gone and Mac’s wearing a mask instead. His breathing isn’t as smooth as normal, but Doctor Ruane’s happy enough. She and the nurse get Mac settled, tapping controls on the IV pump to adjust the various medications. The nurse deftly releases the restraints.

“Hopefully we won’t need these again,” she says.

Jack really hopes they won’t.

Mac slumps against the pillows, exhausted by the whole thing. He doesn’t speak. Jack can see how much effort each breath takes.

He gives Mac’s hand a squeeze. “You did it,” he says. “Just keep breathing. Don’t stop.”

Mac’s asleep again before he’s manages to utter a word. Jack keeps hold of his hand.

“I expect he’ll be asleep for a while now,” Doctor Ruane says. She casts a critical glance over Jack. “You should get some rest too.”

“Thanks, doc, but I’m fine,” Jack says, knowing he’s lying.

“I’ll have a cot brought in,” the nurse says.

“Thank you,” Doctor Ruane says. “I’d hate to have another patient.”

Jack doesn’t argue further. The pair step out. The room is filled with the sound of Mac’s breathing. He’s fighting hard, like he has to prove that he can do it himself even in his sleep. Jack’s thumb draws circles on the back of Mac’s hand. “Relax, man. No one’s gonna put you back on that vent unless they really have to.”

Moments later, footsteps approach again. Jack’s exhausted, but he forces himself to look to the door.

Matty stands there, a new nurse at her side. He looks younger than Mac. He moves to the bed while Matty walks up to Jack, placing her hand on his arm. “You okay?” she asks.

“Me?” Jack scoffs. “I’m fine. It’s Mac you gotta worry about.”

“He’s looking better,” Matty says. “You, on the other hand, look about ready to drop.”

“Good thing the nurse is bringing a cot in,” Jack says. He has no intention of sleeping. Not yet.

Matty, of course, has her own plans. “I’m here now. You can get some rest. Bozer’s up next, followed by Riley. You got him through the night. Let us watch over him for now.”

“Matty, I’m not – ”

“Not leaving him,” she confirms. As though to back up her point, a pair of orderlies enter with a cot. They make it up with blankets and a pillow, and head back out. “Go on, Jack. I’ve got him for now. Get some rest before you pass out.”

“Fine,” Jack says. “But you need to let him know he ain’t alone. You gotta keep him grounded.”

Matty takes Jack’s seat. The surely still teenaged nurse reaches for the bed controls, lowering the bed’s height. He readjusts lines, catheters and wires while Matty reaches over, her hand closing around Mac’s. “I got Blondie,” she says to Jack. “Time for you to get some sleep.”

Jack wants to argue. Tries, even. But the minute his head hits the cot’s pillow, he’s out like a light.

Because Mac’s breathing by himself, safe in Matty’s hands.

* * *

The whole team takes it in turns for the rest of the day. Mac sleeps without waking, his breathing still rough but better than before. Jack wakes up to find Riley in Matty’s place and the sun well on its way to setting again. He’d slept eight hours straight.

“Hey,” she says, keeping her voice low. She hands over a bottle of water and an energy bar.

“Hey,” Jack says, taking the items. He chugs the whole bottle and makes quick work of the energy bar. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she says. “You?”

Standing, Jack stretches and makes his way to Mac’s bedside. He’s still asleep. “Fine,” he tells her. “How’s Mac?”

“Doing well, considering,” she says. “The doctor came by earlier. Said Mac’ll probably sleep through the night. Exhaustion and pain meds keeping him down. You should go get a real meal. Come back when I can’t hear your stomach rumbling.”

Jack draws breath to argue. Riley stops him before he can really get going.

“If Mac looks like he needs you, I’ll call. But the doctor said there’s no way he’ll be awake again today. He doesn’t have the energy. Besides, he slept through Bozer singing the Spice Girls’ greatest hits. If that didn’t wake him, nothing will. Go on, get out of here. And maybe ask the nurses for a shower.” She kicks a bag over to him. “I swung by your place. Got you some stuff.”

Knowing he couldn’t argue his way out of it, Jack agrees. He takes the shower first, the nursing staff giving him access to their bathroom, either taking pity on him or eager to clear the air around him. Then he finds a good meal, more coffee, and takes it all back to Mac’s room. As promised, he’s still sleeping. Not even the smell of coffee or Riley and Jack’s not so soft voices are enough to wake him.

In fact, for maybe the first time in his life, Mac does as expected and sleeps through the night. When he awakens the next day, Jack’s there to greet him with ice chips and a beaker of water. They take the mask off long enough for him to suck water through a straw, then replace it while he lets the ice melt on his tongue.

“Man, it is good to see you awake,” Jack says.

Mac grabs his hand. “Thank you,” he says, voice rasping. He has to pause to catch his breath before continuing. “For being here.”

“You remember everything?”

Mac shakes his head carefully. “Flashes,” he says. “You never left.”

Jack squeezes his hand. “You’re damn right I didn’t.”

“Was scared,” Mac confesses. “Couldn’t…” He pauses again. “Couldn’t breathe.” Another pause. “Machine. Not fast enough.”

Jack can only imagine the horror of needing to breathe but having to wait for the machine doing it to kick in. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t,” Mac say. “Didn’t hit me.” He shifts slightly, wincing. “Car?”

“We’re working on that, by the way,” Jack says. “Any day now, Riley’s gonna have a breakthrough. Then I’m gonna have to go sit on Bozer so he don’t find this guy and take him out James Bond style.”

“Bozer?” Mac wheezes. “Or you?”

Jack smirks. It’s a pale imitation of his usual expression. “Maybe both. But less chatting, more breathing from you, alright?”

Mac nods. He doesn’t speak again. Exhaustion and pain leave him pale and drawn. His eyes are already sliding shut, each blink slower than the last.

“Go back to sleep,” Jack says. He reaches over, resting his hand atop Mac’s head. “Best thing for you right now.”

Mac leans into the touch. He’s asleep in seconds.

Jack relaxes for the first time in days. Mac’s gonna be okay.

(Riley tracks down the hit and run driver later that day.

The LAPD don’t get there first.)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading!
> 
> You can find me over on [Tumblr](https://breakfastteatime.tumblr.com/) Throw me an Ask and you never know what you might inspire ;)


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